Something Freakish This Way Comes
by LilyHellsing
Summary: A mutant teenager knows their not normal; does this mean they must get used to being called a freak? Let's see what Rogue thinks. When she gets into a fight with a 'normal' girl who makes her really think, she starts to wonder. Better than sounds.No Flame


**Let me first start off by saying three things; Disclaimer: NOT MINE; this is a fanfiction meaning my opinion that fueled me to write this cannot be wrong or right; and this is a one shot.**

**I mostly identify with Rogue because I dress similar, I have small Southern accent (not the over board ones), and my appearance and attitude is similar. I can see her thinking about something like what I'm about to write because I've thought about it.**

**Recently on the last few days of school, I decided to wear a dark pink and black dress with skulls on it from Hot Topic to school. This girl named Ashley Green, who's been trying to make me wear brighter colors and blue jeans and color my hair more than the two highlights in the front (they're there for a reason Green!) started some crap with me. Long story short, after she asked if I wanted my nails to be neon pink, which I politely said no to, she rolled her eyes at the guy/substitute teacher I was staring at.**

**Bottom line, we got into a fight about me being a freak and her being a preppy normal big boobed STD carrying blond who tries to control everyone. No offense to any blond who has big boobs XD So…well, here's the one shot.**

**Btw, I chose the line from **_**Macbeth**_** "By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes" because I had just been reading it and decided I could work it into the story. XD This happens just when mutants are revealed!**

**No flames please.**

* * *

(Rogue's POV)

As if we didn't have enough homework at Bayville, Professor Xavier decided to add an extra 'much needed' class. When we first heard about that announcement, we spent an hour trying to guess what it could be. Math? Science? English? History? We, meaning the whole group of teenage mutants that attended Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, agreed that no core subjects were needed.

It took only a little while to put Xavier's personality with the idea of another class and sure enough, we were right. Literature class. What a joy this should be. To make matters worse, we had to read Macbeth first. Lucky for us though, we had to go to school…lucky, lucky, lucky us!

Recently the discovery of mutants, of us, had reached the humans. They were scared of us which were totally normal. They held protests, got signatures, peace rallies; so on so forth…some resorted to violence like Magneto did and others kept the peace like Charles did. Weird isn't it? They think they're so different and better than us when really, there are people just like us and vise versa. Most are too blind to see it.

It didn't take much time for the people at school to find out that Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters really meant for mutants. Although they were…well, _most_ were too terrified of tagging or vandalizing our school day or night, they taunted us at school. Every day for the past week, we were teased and jeered at. Could we stop them? Yes. Were we allowed to? No. We were waiting for the people to decide if we, mutants, could stay in that school. Part of me wanted to go because I had a right to but after this torment, the other part of me wanted to blow it off.

It was no secret that this situation was so similar. History, in fact, _did _repeat itself. The Jews were separated from others, blacks were separated from the whites, the gays from the straights, and now the mutants from the 'normals'. It disgusted me. Many people saw this and yet, they didn't really speak out about it. I mean, all you're doing really is telling the world that it's being ignorant and fearful…surprise, surprise.

So far I managed to get through half the day without anyone hassling me. As soon as I sat down, on habit touching my sleeved arms, I started to believe I was safe. Of course, my luck, I was wrong.

A girl in my grade stepped over to me, two boys and another girl behind her. She had dirty blond hair that was curled and, what seemed to me was soaked in hairspray to keep it so hard like gold or something. Her skin looked perfectly flawless at first glance but if you stared and studied for a minute, you could see she used tone make up to cover pimples. Her lips were painted with dark lipstick and her shirt, much to my annoyance, was neon pink that hugged her rather…huge breasts. Her thin legs were covered with blue jeans.

…What the heck could she want?

"Freak, you're in our spot." She stated plainly. Although I would never admit this out loud, despite my sudden hatred for her, she had the clearest and prettiest blue eyes.

"You're spot?" My southern accent escaped me. "I don't see your name on this table, which I've been sitting at for the past week."

"Well we want to sit here, meaning you have to go sit with your freakish friends." She snarled, showing that she had claws.

My eyes flashed and I stood up, but not to move, to meet her height and gaze. "Who are you to say what's normal and what's abnormal?"

"Society deems you a freak." She crossed her arms, deciding to look all high and mighty.

"Yes and a few decades ago, society said that slavery was normal. Now anyone who is raciest seems to be 'odd'. Society is bound to change, meaning we'll be normal just like you." I snapped.

"Perhaps…" She hesitated, trying to think of something. "But for now, society says you're a freak." And what could I say to that? What could I possibly do?

My face got a few inches from hers and I poked her, "Society also says this is a free country, meaning I can sit where I want."

"This 'free' country is about to kick your kind out of school, leaving that table to us."

I glared at her. She was right…

Grabbing my food, I tossed it in the trash, throwing my appetite with it. As I started to walk off, I heard them laugh. Glancing back, I saw that they were sitting at a different table. They just did that to taunt me.

When will we freaks be considered normal? When will the definition of 'normal' go away? Probably never, but can't we at least be considered okay? These questions circled my mind even as I walked back from school.

As soon as dinner was over, several other mutants and I went to Literature class. We were reading and reading and reading…taking turns to talk. It was my turn and I failed to notice. My thoughts were still on lunch that day, nothing else. When I felt a gentle nudge on my mind, not invading, but just to wake me up.

"Rogue…it's your turn." Charles spoke softly, as if sensing my reason of such deep thought.

I looked at the book and spoke. My words were from both Shakespeare and me, from Shakespeare's beautiful work and my stupid problems. My part was one of the three witches.

"By the pricking of my thumb, something freakish this way comes."


End file.
